


Losing Control

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Series: Victus/Vakarian/Shepard [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied poly relationship, Minor Character Death, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Excerpt:While the news was expected, what with the destruction of the district that once held his home, Adrien hated receiving it. Not knowing had squeezed his spirit, but knowing shattered it like a glass falling to the floor.
Relationships: Adrien Victus/Original Turian Female Character(s), Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian/Adrien Victus
Series: Victus/Vakarian/Shepard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818916
Comments: 15
Kudos: 31





	Losing Control

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot can be read alone or as part of the series. I'm still not entirely sure where this story came from, but I'd like to share it with you all the same. Fair warning, sadness ahead.
> 
> Beta read by the amazing [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer).

\---

Work seemed never-ending.

Adrien stood in his ready room on the turian command vessel, poring over reports and documents from Hierarchy intelligence. Mixed in with data on the fleet status and casualty lists, were communiques from Garrus about the Crucible’s condition and that of the  _ Normandy. _ He and his Advisor messaged daily and partook in vid-calls when the lines permitted. While it kept mainly to business, there were moments where Shepard would step in and they’d speak like friends instead-- if only for a few minutes at a time.

That short sense of normalcy; those brief moments in time kept Adrien going. Especially so on days like today. His mandibles pinched against his maxilla, and he ground his teeth. The reports were not kind today.

Adrien’s hands tightened around the desk’s metal edges, and his gauntlets creaked with the strain. It should have been painful but the Primarch was too focused on staring daggers through the datapad in front of him. His throat tightened to silence the keen on the edge of his throat.

He was never more glad of the thick metal bulkheads on starships. When the sounds finally escaped his maw, he knew they wouldn’t leak into the command centre.

While the news was expected, what with the destruction of the district that once held his home, Adrien hated receiving it. Not knowing had squeezed his spirit, but knowing shattered it like a glass falling to the floor. If this war ever ended, he had nowhere to go. His spirit would drift without his mates’ steady presence on the other side of a vid-call. Like Tarquin, she was gone.

The pain weighed him down, stealing his breath.

In times of war, it was expected to lose family. The turians were the strong arm of the council, and he’d stayed in the Hierarchy service of his own volition. He’d lost friends before, the best of them in Shanxi and more in the Sundowner uprising. But to lose a non-combatant; It should have been him.

Adrien only let go of the desk now that his hands were good and numb. He dreaded looking at the clock to see how much time passed. For all he knew, it might’ve been hours.

His sense of duty would have to take precedence. As Primarch, Adrien was necessary to the Hierarchy. There would be no time to mourn. It would come later-- if he survived. He let out a dark and bitter laugh. If there was even a galaxy left to salvage after this. The Reapers lived up to their name, taking everything in their path.

When the laughter caught in his gizzard, Adrien had to gasp to catch his breath. His lungs didn’t want to work and he grabbed his chest. The pain in his spirit was real. He grew dizzy and sick in the ensuing silence. She was gone.

A priority ping broke him out of his hyperventilating stupor. This was no time to mourn. Adrien forced himself to calm, just as he’d done while watching the camera feed over Tuchunka. His military mask was worn so deep into his plates that he managed to bring himself to composure before the call gave a second bleet. He didn’t care to look at the caller, only a select few had his direct line.

“Victus here,” he said into the comm after it connected. He was proud there was barely a warble in his voice-- it could maybe even be blamed on the connection.

_ “Shit, you already heard,”  _ the voice on the other end replied with a concerned note. It was Garrus because of course, it was. He could hear it because he was listening to the undercurrent.  _ “Adrien-- I’m sorry.” _

The Primarch blew out a long breath. “Been spying on me, Vakarian?” There was a touch of humour underneath his fatigue. Garrus must’ve been watching the casualty lists too. 

_ “Only a little,” _ the younger turian replied with a remorseful sound.  _ “I only just got back to the ship, we were on Rannoch.” _

“Mh-hm,” Adrien hummed. He’d known that. But they couldn’t be back already that mission was supposed to take until after the cycle ended. His golden eyes flicked to the clock. As it turned out, it  _ had _ been hours. “Good hunting?”

Despite there being no video, Garrus’ voice was enough for Adrien to know what the expression on his plates would be.  _ “Yes. But that’s not why I called.” _

“I know why you called,” Adrien told him. He’d have done the same if he turned up Castis or Solana in any of the searches. It was something friends did in wars. Not everyone would get the same reports in battles this size. “It was a foregone conclusion, Garrus.” 

_ “Thinking it had happened and knowing are not the same thing,” _ the other turian said with more undercurrents of apology laced in his second voice.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe the headache beneath his fringe. “She is with Tarquin, and her body is burned. I will not see her eyes across the battlefield when I raise my rifle against these abominations. I take solace in that.”

_ “Grieve for a moment, Adrien,” _ said a second voice-- Shepard. He didn’t know how long the Commander had been on the other line. It wasn’t the first time she joined Garrus, and he was grateful for her presence.  _ “We’re here for you.” _

Garrus made an agreeing hum, and when Adrien shut his eyes he could visualize an image of the turian putting his hand on Shepard’s shoulder. The Primarch dropped his hand to the juncture of his neck and pretended it was his friend’s hand instead. He longed for contact. Already, a month was gone from his departure from the  _ Normandy. _

At least on the human vessel, there had been moments of privacy and less requirement for him to put on a brave face for a turian crew. It had been easy to lax his subvocals when no one could understand him other than Garrus. Here, surrounded by his people, it was difficult to keep his voice in check as he was exhausted by the days. 

“I will grieve when the Reapers are no more,” he said without inflection. “--or I can wait for my grave beside theirs. Though I appreciate your call, both of you.”

_ “We’ll be on the Citadel again soon,” _ Shepard said. _ “Will you have leave?” _

He shook his head, despite no one being able to see him in his empty office. “No time soon. You’ve seen the battle schedule.” Garrus would have shared it with her. Tomorrow they went to Palaven now that Menae had her legs back. With the krogan assistance, they were pushing back-- too little, too late maybe. But they would continue to the last turian. 

_ “If we could come--”  _ Garrus began only for Adrien to cut him short.

“I know you would. Instead, focus your efforts so we may finish this. I long to see a friendly face when this is over. Take care of each other.” He knew they would take his dismissal, however begrudgingly. He needed to get his head on straight, there was so much he needed to focus on. 

On the other end of the call, there was a whispered moment between his friends before Shepard’s voice came back onto the line. “We’ll keep taking the fight to them,” she said with determination coming out of her very core. Her human voice was not flat in the slightest at that moment.

“Shepard’s right,” Garrus intoned with promises in his subvocals-- that they would see one another again when this was over. “Good hunting, Adrien.”

“Good hunting,” he agreed. “And may the spirits be with us all.”

The call clicked off, and Adrien’s chin fell to his chest while his hands scrubbed his face. His partners were right. Together they could get through this, their determination would rub off on him.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> -VV


End file.
